


Just Like a Flower Poking Through the Sidewalk Crack

by a_question_of_love (roseandheather)



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, News BFFs, Reunion Fic, Shep is an Engel Fanboy, friendshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/a_question_of_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If pressed to boil it down, Shep would say they aren't so much 'friends' as they are 'affectionate acquaintances' - rarely in each other's orbit, but on the occasions when those orbits do cross, it's an unfailingly pleasant experience for both parties involved."</p><p>Shep Smith does not usually spend a lot of time with Rachel Maddow.</p><p>Today is an exception.</p><p>Then Richard Engel comes home, and Shep finds that friendship really can make you "smile like the sun".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like a Flower Poking Through the Sidewalk Crack

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Richard and Rachel have the most adorable friendship on Planet Earth and Shep and Rachel have this adorable mutual respect/friendly acquaintances thing going on and the two combined to make this fic.
> 
> Loosely inspired by (and title stolen from) [this adorable vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chbvkLJP5JQ).
> 
> Oh, and "Mary" is Mary Engel _née_ Forrest, Richard's "longtime love", whom he married in 2015. "Susan" is obviously Rachel's partner, the artist Susan Mikula.

As a general rule, Shep doesn't spend a lot of time with Rachel Maddow.

This isn't because he dislikes her. Quite to the contrary; he finds her to be a witty, refreshing, and remarkably intelligent journalist and also a damned nice human being. She can swing from deep, serious discussions of foreign policy to shredding politicians with sarcasm to munching popcorn on-camera over ridiculous scandals, she's always willing to go at him with substantial political debates, and she mixes an excellent drink.

Nor, so far as he is aware, does she dislike him; she doesn't mention him much on her show (as he doesn't often mention her), but when she does, it's invariably positive (and if he ever had any inclination to run for any sort of public office, he would _definitely_ take her up on the offer to "quit what [she's] doing and go work for him"). And on the rare occasions they've gotten to socialize, she has seemed to genuinely enjoy his company (a feeling which, if true, is also quite mutual).

No, Shep doesn't spend a lot of time with Rachel simply as a matter of priorities. During the week, their schedules don't coincide at all; on the weekends, he goes to Mississippi and she goes to Massachusetts. They don't call each other much, either, though they will email whenever some particularly excessive absurdity crops up in the news.

If pressed to boil it down, Shep would say they aren't so much 'friends' as they are 'affectionate acquaintances' - rarely in each other's orbit, but on the occasions when those orbits do cross, it's an unfailingly pleasant experience for both parties involved.

Today, though, he _is_ spending time with Rachel. He is ostensibly on vacation for the week, but for some reason (one which she has so far distinctly failed to explain) Rachel has dragged him to the MSNBC offices instead. (He got a few wary looks, which faded when the givers almost visibly recognized his face, filed him under 'FOX, but acceptable', and went back to work. Apparently Rachel has been saying more nice things about him off-camera than she has on-camera.) Said dragging had consisted of a single text message which simply read 'HELP' - and since he _does_ like Rachel Maddow, and assumes that if she is requesting his help in particular she really does need it, off he went.

The person responsible for his presence at 30 Rock begins by rummaging through the drawers of an alarmingly messy desk, drags out a yellow legal pad covered in scribbles, directs his attention to the notes thereon, and begins babbling away in rapid-fire English that Shep is only able to follow because it's a language he, too, speaks. The story is an interesting one, but complicated and - critically - almost guaranteed to be boring to the general public unless presented the right way.

Good thing Rachel summoned the one man in news whose credo is "Never do it the boring way."

He does know that he's about to have a very fun afternoon.

He _doesn't_ know that said afternoon will include a glimpse into Rachel's soul - a moment so tender and private he will always feel privileged to have seen it.

(And it will take wild horses to ever, _ever_ drag that last admission from him.)

They've been at it a couple of hours, mainlining coffee and chattering away, when a familiar-yet-unfamiliar voice breaks through their chatter.

"Do the troops know you've brought an enemy general to the heart of their own encampment?"

Shep blinks, looking away from the pad at the wry, amused voice coming from the doorway, and nearly gapes.

He doesn't have many heroes in news. He's never been that type of person, and even if he was, he's spent twenty years at the top of the business. It's hard to impress him.

But the man in the doorway is one of the few who can still render Shep starstruck - a veteran foreign correspondent and military embed who knows more about Middle Eastern affairs than just about anyone else in the business. _Combined._

And someone who, as far as he knew, was still _in extremis_ in Syria.

He looks over at Rachel just in time to see her look up, her jaw drop, and her eyes go soft and tearful. " _Richard,"_ she breathes, and jumps up, nearly knocking half the desk contents to the ground in her haste. Shep fails to grab the legal pad before it lands on the floor, but rescues her coffee singlehandedly.

He still can't take his eyes off Rachel, who rounds the corner of her desk at as close to a run as feasible in her closet-sized office and flings herself into Richard Engel's arms, burying her face in his shoulder and clinging to him for all she's worth. "Hey, baby girl," Richard murmurs in her ear, and then continues in a voice too low for Shep to hear.

"You're back," Rachel says raggedly, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt. "You're _alive._ "

"Well, I couldn't leave my best girl, could I?" Richard's voice is kind, but there's a catch in his throat that brings a lump to Shep's own.

"I'm going to tell Mary you said that," Rachel mutters, letting out a wet, gurgling laugh that turns back to sobs in short order.

"Go ahead," says Richard offhandedly, his hands carding through Rachel's short hair. "She already knows I love you."

It hits Shep in the gut, quite suddenly, that he is watching something absolutely precious. The radiant affection is palpable between them, and Shep takes a deep, shuddering breath as he realises what he's seeing.

Rachel and Richard are in love with each other.

Not in the romantic sense - if there is one thing Shepard Smith knows about Rachel, it's her utter devotion to Susan - but in the way two people are, deeply and profoundly, when they're platonic soul mates.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Smith,_ Shep thinks tartly, but he can't rid his mind of the notion, and the longer he watches them, the more convinced he becomes that he's absolutely right. Richard Engel and Rachel Maddow are far more than just friends. They're _family,_ not by blood but by heart. Best friends, yes, but something more than that - something unique, something wonderful. Something that makes them both forget the camera whenever they share a screen, that saturates their voices and glows on their faces whenever they're in contact, no matter how many long, weary miles and time zones lie between them - and no matter how many thousands of viewers may be watching.

He's not even sure there's a name for it. He's not sure there needs to be.

Rachel and Richard are still wrapped in each other's arms, just holding on now, not talking any more. But just when he starts to think he should go, Rachel lifts her head from Richard's shoulder (though he notices she doesn't let him go). "Richard," she says, her voice hoarse from crying, "you know Shep Smith, right?"

"I believe we've met in passing," says Richard with one of those wide, warm smiles, and he even takes one arm from around Rachel to shake Shep's hand. "It's a real pleasure. I don't see much news from the States, but Rachel says you do good work."

"Thank you," says Shep, feeling inane and tongue-tied. "You're - ah. Let's just say I'm a fan."

"Like you're a fan of Ole Miss," Rachel mutters, and Shep resists the urge to step on her foot.

"Glad to hear it," Richard answers, apparently ignoring Rachel. "What brings someone from FOX into enemy territory?"

"A desperate cry for help," Shep answers, the words coming a bit more easily now. "Apparently Rachel needed my skills in making stuff interesting."

"Must have been one hell of a story," Richard says, deadpan. "That's usually not an issue with her."

"It was," Rachel chimes in, and shoots an apologetic glance at Shep. "And it's probably gonna get bumped, because I'm hijacking Richard for The Interview tonight. No excuses. This matters too much. Sorry, Shep."

"No problemo," says Shep, and finds he means it. "It's a good story, though. If you eventually want to run it - "

"You'll be the first person I call," Rachel assures him, and reaches out to pat his shoulder. "Thanks, Shep. You're good people."

"So are you," Shep says without hesitation. "But I think I'm gonna take off. You two look like you have a lot of catching up to do."

"Oh, don't go," Richard groans, his eyes twinkling. "As soon as you leave, she'll start yelling at me."

"You know it," grumbles Rachel. "Tramping into war zones, getting yourself kidnapped - damn you, Richard Engel!"

"And on that note," says Shep, hiding a laugh, "I think I'll be off. Richard, good to see you hale and whole. Rachel, good stuff today."

And he strolls out the office door, somehow feeling ten times lighter than he had when he walked in.

 _With so much darkness,_ he thinks, _sometimes all you need is a little love to show you the light._

His last glimpse of Rachel is the top of her head, her hair blending with Richard's, as they hold on like they'll never let go.

 _Don't,_ he thinks, with sudden fierceness. _Don't let each other go. The world needs that kind of light far too badly._

For the rest of the day, he can't stop smiling.

 


End file.
